


Cat-Like Behavior

by panpinecone



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Animal Play, Confusion, Costumes, Hypnotism, Imagination, Lack of Communication, M/M, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panpinecone/pseuds/panpinecone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cats do love to play as snakes, but also love to play as pets. Masters are generally more experienced than Big Boss though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cat-Like Behavior

**Author's Note:**

> Set after MGSV and contains spoilers.
> 
> No sex actually occurs, and is only present through Big Boss's imagination (where it's thought of as consensual). Were the scenario to really happen, it would be completely and entirely nonconsensual.
> 
> The ending could be interpreted as leading up to upsetting scenarios.

John exhaled a puff of smoke as Adam wandered the hall. A loud crash later, he was scampering back into the living room, leaping right over John’s outstretched legs and very nearly running into the wall.

_“Mrow?”_

John rolled his eyes. He’d never understand Adam’s need to occasionally act like a cat, but was willing to humor him during the sessions. Not that he needed much humoring, as he seemed to manage just fine on his own.

A short grumble escaped Adam as his head jerked to and fro, and then he was off again, darting back over John’s legs and into the hall.

It was only after they’d reunited—after Adam had remembered the truth, had recognized the phantom for what he was—it was only then that he’d told John about his unique coping methods.

According to him, he could only compartmentalize so much stress before reaching a tipping point. Living lies, forgetting entire chunks of knowledge, taking on personas... After a certain point, it was all too much to bear.

So he needed an escape.

In his own words, he mentally _became_ a cat. For all intents and purposes, he was an overgrown hairless cat, and that was how John was to treat him. Supposedly, it cleared his head, giving him a break from all the doublethink.

John still had no idea what exactly Adam could do with his mind. Pretend and imitate, certainly. But become a cat? It was absurd. No, it seemed likelier that he was merely playacting as best he could. And a damn fine job he did of it, too.

All his movements, noises, even attitude— all indicative of a feline mentality. The accessories only added to the believability of it.

John had once asked if they were necessary, only to be told they weren’t. Adam had then gone on to explain their function as mere aids: They reinforced the image of him as a cat, and helped him separate that state from his usual mentality.

He’d laid out all the accessories for John to see, a clear attempt at familiarizing him with the concept ahead of time. After a few general questions, John had begun examining each individual item, picking them up and turning them over in his hands.

Adam had described their functions in detail as John looked them over. The ears and tail apparently utilized high-end technology and could synchronize with Adam’s mental wavelengths. Most of the explanation was lost on John, but he understood enough to know that they’d move on their own, outwardly transmitting Adam’s mood.

Their fur matched his hair.

Next came the kneepads. The explanation behind them was simple enough: Adam needed assurance that he wouldn’t come out of his trance with skinned and aching knees. Their insides were heavily cushioned, and it was evident that they were a quality product.

John wondered if this was the kind of thing that Adam regularly spent the Philosophers’ Legacy on.

Finally, the collar. It was plain, red, and had a small metallic tag hanging from it. Upon closer inspection, he found that the tag was blank. And that was when Adam had spoken up.

“The, uhh, owner’s name is supposed to go there. I was wondering if you’d be alright with that.”

“You wanted to list me?”

“Well... You _are_ the owner.”

“.....”

“Unless y—”

“No, I’m alright with it.”

Adam had breathed a sigh of relief at the words, the tension leaving his muscles and his posture relaxing. Perhaps he’d guessed John would be averse to the idea? The thought was laughable.

However fond John may have been of officially ‘owning’ Adam aside, there was a lot of responsibility he hadn’t accounted for: Namely, keeping an eye on Adam during his sessions. As his owner, John was wholly to blame if he got himself squashed under a bookcase or stuck atop the fridge. He was apparently prone to bouts of carefree exploration and fearlessness while believing himself to be a cat, potentially endangering both himself and others.

He entrusted John to watch him and ensure nothing went wrong.

The task hadn’t sounded daunting at first. How difficult could something like that even be?

And then John got to see Adam enter the trance for the first time.

The transformation was swift and thorough. One minute he’d walked into the next room, halfheartedly muttering about Gurlukovich and his unbearable patriotism, and the next, he’d crawled back out in full gear.

_“Mrow!”_

The clearly feline vocalization had startled John into sitting up. Swinging his head towards the noise, his eyes quickly settled onto Adam.

Clad in kneepads, collar, ears, and tail, John could almost believe that Adam honestly was an overgrown hairless cat. True to his original explanation, the cosmetic accessories moved around of their own accord, and John found himself watching in fascination as Adam made his way over, tail raised high and ears perked curiously.

_“Mrow...?”_

John had spent the better part of the next few hours coming to terms with everything. Of course he’d had an idea of what to expect, but actually being confronted with it was something altogether different.

Likely due to his relentless observation, the first session had gone smoothly. John was watching Adam lounge on the bed when the trance began to fade. Adam’s eyes, normally so sharp and alert, had gone blank and dulled. Then, in a matter of seconds, they were back to their usual state, and so was he.

Noticing John’s presence, he’d frozen in place and breathlessly asked, “How’d it go?”

He knew very well how it went, didn’t he? John supposed it was part of the illusion, Adam maintaining some semblance of being innocent about what he did while ‘being a cat’.

And so John humored him, recounting what little had transpired, and Adam had breathed another sigh of relief at hearing the acceptance in John’s voice. If John hadn’t already had plenty of experience with Adam’s acting ability, he may actually have believed his claims of having no recollection of what had happened.

Over the following years, John had witnessed the same phenomenon time and time again. There was no rhyme or reason to it, the frequency of sessions spanning anywhere from several within a month, to a few scattered throughout the year.

Early on, once he’d grown accustomed to the trance, John’s vigilance had gone lax. After an incident involving a boiling kettle and some _very_ red fingertips, he’d been forced to reconsider Adam’s dedication to the role.

Increased attentiveness aside, the incident had also spurred him to start questioning Adam’s goal in undergoing the trance. How could pretending to be a cat, to the point of needlessly injuring himself, be in any way beneficial to his mental health? How could it possibly require less focus than any of the other roles he played?

Eventually, John settled on a theory.

The entire thing—the pretending, the dressing up, the playfulness—had to do with sex.

John was positive of it. Why else would anyone go to all that trouble? It made no sense. And though the idea of roleplaying in bed had never particularly appealed to him, it was plain that it was what Adam had set out to do.

Aside from the way he’d parade around the place during his sessions, there were other, much more telling signs of what his true goal was. John was fully aware of how dense he could be, and so it came as no surprise that it took him as long as it did, but once the idea hit him, the rest of the pieces seemed to naturally fall into place.

Adam had hopped up onto the couch beside him, the low rumble coming from his throat managing to resemble a purr. Contentedly, he’d bumped his head against John’s shoulder and rubbed it back and forth. Before John had a chance to react, Adam had gingerly crawled onto his lap, hands kneading at his thighs and tail curling around himself.

On its own, the display wouldn’t have been cause for much suspicion, but John would’ve been a fool not to think twice of the way Adam’s hands had moved from his thighs to massage at his crotch, openly groping his dick before letting out a soft yawn and lying down to nap.

As obviously teasing as it was, John had been prepared to let it slide.

But then Adam had to go and stretch, practically shoving his ass in John’s face and invitingly laying himself out across the couch. Keeping up the pretense, he’d turned over and meowed, not even glancing down at John’s lap to check what effect he was having.

John simply couldn’t understand it. Why go to such ridiculous lengths for something, only to ignore the opportunity when it came? His inability to answer the question was the only thing keeping all his musings firmly in ‘theory’ territory.

He’d debated asking Adam outright. Surely he’d drop the charade and come clean about his intentions for once? But after further consideration, John decided that if Adam hadn’t done so all that time, he’d probably be upset at being confronted so bluntly.

John _could_ have a bit of tact now and then.

Unfortunately, all his decisions left him at an impasse. It was clear that Adam intended for him to take action of some sort, but what? If the illusion was so important to maintain, then what could John hope to do? Play along? How?

He was the master and Adam was the pet; that much had been made clear to him. Within those parameters, his options were limited, but images of taking Adam hard and fast danced across his mind regardless.

He envisioned Adam beneath him, still in his cat costume, yowling like a queen in heat. He fantasized about shoving him down and rutting into him, yanking at his collar and reminding him that he belonged to John. All the while, Adam’s pleasured meowing was sure to echo throughout the room, complementing the sounds of their fucking.

His skin prickled in irritation at the thought.

Was that Adam’s eventual goal? For John to fuck him while he pretended to be a cat? If not for the smallest, vaguest inkling that something didn’t add up, John would’ve obliged years ago. Though interesting to begin with, the novelty of Adam’s sessions had soon worn off, and if absolutely certain that fucking him during one would put a stop to them altogether, John would gladly have done it.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was holding him back. Even at the moment, as something fell over in the next room and Adam began meowing in distress, there was nothing stopping him from testing out the theory.

John remained where he was on the couch, lost in thought. He wondered if there was a specific way Adam would like for him to do it. Did he want John to catch him by surprise? Or did he want to be coaxed into it? Perhaps he meant for John to make his move while they both shared the couch.

When Adam got on his lap and palmed at his dick, maybe he should’ve pulled it out for him to play with. Or maybe Adam’s unwavering dedication to the role would prevent him from reacting. If so, then John would’ve had to tug him down by the collar, bringing his face to where his hands had been. One confused meow later, he’d slip his dick into Adam’s open mouth, satisfied as it stopped him from uttering a single meow more.

Would Adam start sucking? Or would he maintain the illusion even then? The thought of Adam’s tongue shyly giving his dick soft kitten licks was intoxicating, and he found himself with a vivid mental image of Adam’s lips wrapped around the head of his dick, tail brushing and twitching against him. Mouth occupied, he’d have no choice but to purr low in his throat, and John had a feeling the vibrations would work wonders on his dick.

His musings were cut short by Adam dashing down the hall and crashing headfirst into the side of the couch. Head stuck in a small cardboard box, Adam’s ensuing yowling was significantly muffled. Just _how_ he’d gotten his head stuck in a box with such a small opening, John hadn’t the faintest idea. Nonetheless, he reached down and wrenched it off.

Finally freed from the darkness of the box’s interior, Adam fell silent, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.

_“...Mreow?”_

Apparently still dazed from the impact, Adam didn’t react when John leaned over to scoop him up, remaining docile as John settled him onto his lap. Peering up through half-lidded eyes, Adam curled in on himself and absently licked at his hand, moving it up to swipe at his forehead.

Repeating the motions with his other hand, then back to the first, he seemed wholly engrossed in his own affairs. John was at a loss as to how he could keep on playing pretend after the impact to his head. He must already feel a migraine coming on, and yet he was still on John’s lap as a cat, content to pretend through the pain.

Admirable, really.

John smoothed a hand over Adam’s head, feeling for any bump that might be forming. His fingers tangled in silver hair as he continued his search, pressing down on different spots across Adam’s skull.

_“Mreow...”_

Maybe around the other sid—

“Ahh!”

Adam flipped onto the floor and ran off, having bitten one of John’s fingers for his trouble. The bite wasn’t truly painful by any means, the surprise of it having shocked John more than anything else.

Not to mention the _disrespect_ of it...

It was high time that John tamed the cat. He was the master, and he needed to ensure Adam knew it.

“Adam!”


End file.
